Coming Up Strong
by Vivere Sine Timore
Summary: I'm not completely sure what this is, seeing as it turned out completely different that what I had planned. Basically just Shawn and Natara growing up both physically and mentally in New Haven. Rated for potty mouth language and some racial slurs. I apologize in advance if it offends anyone.


_Just a little backstory of how this idea came to be:_

_Alright, so I was going through the "secret files" of everyone, and I noticed that Shawn grew up in New Haven, Connecticut. Then in the "Buried Secrets, Buried lives" short stories things, it mentioned that Natara also lived there. I happen to live about twenty minutes away from New Haven, and I know that you can barely walk around there without getting yourself shot. So that got in my mind, and now here we are. Just for plot purposes, I changed Shawn's character a bit (It said he was quiet and reserved growing up, but what I had in mind wouldn't really work if he was quiet.)_

* * *

I didn't like second grade.

I mean I'd only been here for a day, but I didn't like it. The kids were mean, and I couldn't make any friends. They all looked at me weird and I didn't like it. There was one kid, Malcolm, who I'd heard telling his friend that I was a no good, dirty rich Gringo.

I'd heard them all before. Gringo, cracker, honky. It meant that I was white, whereas most of the other kids were black. I'd heard some of the white kids call them other things, like apes and burr heads, and the asians twinkies, ching-chongs, and squints. I didn't really know what all of them meant, but I knew they were mean and that my mommy got mad when I said them at home.

My problem was that neither the black kids nor the white kids liked me. I think it's because my parents have good jobs and make good money, while they barely scrape by. But that's not my fault. It's just not fair. I don't even know why we live here. There was another family, the Mansinghs, who were pretty well off, and their daughter was my age. Only I was too scared to talk to her cause she was friends with Malcolm.

I glanced over to the swings where Malcolm was playing with some of his friends. Malcolm had climbed up to the top and was sitting there, while the rest of them were either swinging or chasing each other around the swings. I sat by myself in the sand box with a boy named Kyle. I remembered him from kindergarten, when we were in the same class. He was in a different class now, though.

As I filled up a bucket with sand, I heard someone else walking over and braced myself for the insults I usually got. Instead, the person sat down in the sandbox with us, humming to herself as she played with her unicorn toy. I stared at her, barely believing my eyes.

"Hi," she said as she smiled at me and Kyle. "I'm Natara."

"I'm Shawn," I said back with a smile.

* * *

"Shawn, I want you to promise me you'll be good, okay? No more fights." I nodded, because I knew that would make my mom happy and drop the subject. I only wanted to make her happy. She made me promise again, and when she was satisfied I jumped out of the car and made my way up the steps to the middle school. I shoved my fists into my pockets and kept my head down. That's the only way you can survive here; hope you can keep your head down long enough to grow up.

"Hi, Shawn!" I heard a voice call to me. I looked up and waved at Natara.

"Hi," I said back and kept walking. She was dating Malcolm, or Mac as he was going by now. He wasn't right for her, though. He was a fat-headed pig and I hated him.

I was almost to my locker when two hands were placed on my back and shoved. I stumbled, but didn't fall. Acting purely on impulse and instinct, I wheeled around faster than I though was possible for me and pounded my fist into the kid's face. It was Mac, the last person I wanted to ever see. He shoved me again and punched me in the stomach.

"What your problem?" I demanded as I dodged another blow.

"You, you dumb fuck white trash!" Mac snarled. He took another swing at me which clipped me across the face. I felt my nose crack and start to bleed. I thrust my knee up into his groin and shoulder checked him away from me. He staggered a few steps back and glared at me. I felt someone place their hand on my shoulder and pull me back. It was Kyle, my best friend; he was actually more a brother to me than a friend. One of Mac's friends, Liam, was pulling him away from the fight too.

"This ain't over, White Boy," He threatened. "Stay away from my girl." As he turned on his heel and left, Natara sent me an apologetic glance before hurrying after Mac.

* * *

I pulled my hood up over my face as I walked quickly down the street. The route I was taking was a familiar one. I walked it every night after my parents were asleep. I could easily follow it with my eyes closed. I turned a corner and slipped into an alleyway silently. I could see the rest of them halfway down. Mac turned and greeted me like he always did.

"Hey, man, you good?" he asked. I nodded at him, then at the rest of them. Liam, James, PJ, Shay and Travis. I'd have never believed it in middle school, but Mac and I had become very close friends in the past three years. I'd impressed him with my uncanny ability to come out of a brutal fight virtually unscathed, and somehow we'd grown together. Kyle and I haven't talked for years, and last I heard he was running with Tyler and his "gang". Tyler was just a pain in the ass who was full of himself and thought the world revolved around him.

Mac wasn't dating Natara anymore, but I still saw her around school sometimes. She'd turned into one of those kids who only cared about grades, the ones who didn't have a life outside of school. I probably would have turned out liked that if I hadn't become friends with Mac.

Shay passed me a lit cigarette and I took a long drag. That was all it took for it to feel like the stress was just melting away. It calmed my frayed nerves and brought all my rushing thoughts to a halt. It was as if someone had wiped my brain clean of everything.

We left the alleyway quickly after that, passing the cigarette between us. Most people called us a gang, but we weren't. We were just friends who hung out at night. We never did anything illegal. Sure, we got into fights, but who hadn't? It was just a way of life.

We somehow ended up on the playground in the park. I knew a lot of people liked to hang out here at night, people who were a lot more dangerous than we were. But I couldn't care less at the time. All I cared about was having a good time.

I was climbing to the roof of the jungle gym when I heard them. I heard other voices laughing, feet trampling down the grass as they walked toward us. When they came closer, I could see that it was Tyler and his friends. They immediately froze. They considered us "rivals". We considered them pricks.

"What are you doing here?" Kyle called out, his eyes locked on me. He, as well as many of the other white guys, thought of me as a traitor because I hung out withstone of the black guys. I saw no problem with it. I had a right to be friends with whoever I wanted.

"It's a public park, we have as much right to be here as you do," Travis retorted. My friends and I laughed at the look on their faces and they simply scowled back.

"Maybe so, but at night this is our turf. Outsiders aren't welcome."

I scoffed. "What, are we in West Side Story now? Because last I checked there were no "turfs" and we're allowed to hang out wherever we choose. So nice try, but we're not going anywhere." I smirked in triumph.

"You think this is funny, White Boy?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"White Boy? Really? That's the best you can come up with?" I dropped down to their level and walked up to Tyler. "Look at yourself. You're a white boy too. A for effort, though. Better luck next time, white trash." I had no idea where this attitude was coming from. Usually I just let Mac and Travis do all the talking.

I heard the hammer of a gun being thumbed down, and immediately everyone freaked. Everyone began backing away from Kyle, but I simply raised my hands. Kyle had the gun trained on my chest.

"Dude, where did you get that?" I heard one of his friends ask.

"He's not worth it, man," I herd another one say.

"Alright, everyone, let's jut calm down," I said cautiously. "Kyle, put the gun down."

"Why should I?" he snarled back, raising the gun so it was aimed at my head.

"Because it's the right thing to do," I said, slowly inching forward. "Because killing me isn't worth spending the rest of your life in jail. And because I know you wouldn't kill me. We knew each other when we were little, you wouldn't be able to kill me."

Kyle laughed without humor. "You think that would stop me? The fact that we were friends once? So what? You're the one that threw that all out the window when you became friends with _him._" He jerked the gun to Mac.

"Whoa, man, take it easy."

"I never understood your choice," Kyle continued. "He beat you up on a daily basis, bullied you since you were a kid, and you just turn around and make nice with him? Come on! And you call _me_ white trash!"

I started to step forward, insults ready to just fly out, but Mac was faster. He was in front of me, yelling at Kyle, harassing him. He swatted at the gun, then punched him in the head. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I saw Kyle jerk his hands up out of self defense, the gun still clutched in his right hand. As he went to hit back, he squeezed the trigger. THe noise startled him and caused I'm to fire three more times. Mac crumpled at his feet, a gaping hole right though the center of his forehead.

Time sped up again, and sirens filled the air. The cops weren't too far, and everyone was running except Kyle. I knew it was too late to help Mac, and I didn't want anything to do with Kyle, so I turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. I jumped the fence, too scared to take the time to find an actual exit. I could see my friends splitting up into different directions. Fear kept me running as fast as I could, putting as much distance as possible between me and the park. When I finally made it near downtown, I ducked into an alley to catch my breath.

Mac was dead. I'd just seen my best friend die. There had been other kids who'd died too, but I'd never really known them. But Mac was my friend. And now he was dead.

I pulled my hood up over my head and tried to arrange into a somewhat normal expression. I stepped back out onto the sidewalk and walked the rest of the way home.

* * *

"Chief Blair, with all due respect I really must protest the necessity of this," I scowled as I sat across from him. He scowled back at me and rose form his chair.

"And I must insist, once again, that you do it," He growled. "Ms. Williams tested very well on the exam, better even than you. But her field work needs to improve and seeing as you're my best field agent I thought, 'Who better to teach her than Mallory?'."

"And what about the Lawrence case?" I insisted. "If we don't find that girl, her parents are the Ambassadors to Russia and they will-"

"Her parents will sue us for everything we're worth and more, I know!" He shouted.

I glared at my chief for a second. We were constantly butting heads and we could never see eye-to-eye. He reminded me of Mac's stubbornness and tenacity. It'd been years since Mac died, almost eight. Kyle was given a life sentence with no chance of parole. Natara had been heartbroken about Mac, even though they had broken up years before. For weeks I'd had people telling me to be strong and to hang in there. It pissed me off.

"Listen to me," Chief Blaire hissed at me. "You are skating on some very thin ice right now, Mallory. You've been reckless and destructive these past few weeks, and do not make the mistake of thinking I have forgotten about you managing to destroy half of the evidence at a crime scene!"

"It was an honest mistake, and I already promised multiple times that it would never happen again," I shot back. "You just said it yourself- I'm your best field officer. I'm the best bet of bringing that girl home alive, and if you want to take me off this case, then you're opening the FBI to one hell of a firestorm."

Chief Blaire sighed and pinched his nose. "I know that's what I said, Mallory. But I can't take the risk of you catching the guy and doing something incredibly stupid. You've already been put on suspension twice in the last year, and both times you were assigned a cast similar to this. I can't risk it. I'm sorry, but you have no choice here. Ms. Williams is waiting for you downstairs."

I huffed in annoyance, grabbed my laptop bag and stormed out of the office. I slammed my stuff down onto my desk, punched it once and then continued down the stairs. Training newbies wasn't the worst job in the world, but it wasn't exactly my favorite. Especially when there was a little girl's life hanging in the balance.

I took a calming breath before I pushed the door open, looking at Chief Blaire's note on her file. "So, Ms. Williams is it? I see you've decided to join the FBI. Welcome to the best and worst career of your life. I'm Special Agent Mallory, and I have the unfortunate job of training you while some idiot gets away with the kidnapping and murder of a Russian Ambassador's Daughter."

"Shawn?" I looked up in surprise- I'd never told her my first name- and nearly dropped the clipboard.

"Jesus," I breathed. "Natara?" The woman in front of me smiled, and suddenly I felt like that shy little boy in second grad all over again.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"What am I doing here? What are _you _doing here? I thought you were going into business?" She smiled sheepishly.

"Well I was, but when my roommate was killed, it brought back all these memories from when Mac was shot, and I just wanted revenge. And then I wanted to know what made them do it, and somehow I ended up becoming a criminal psychology major, and now here I am."

"Williams?"

"It was a name I adopted when I went to college. Everyone knew of my father's company, and I wanted to make sure I was treated the same." I knew I was staring, but somehow it felt like she didn't mind. She was beautiful now, not that she wasn't before. But now she was more mature, an adult. I knew I must look different too, but I still felt the same on the inside.

"Well, Trainee Williams, what do you say after work we grab a drink and catch up on old times?" I asked with a small smile.

She beamed back. "I'd love to."


End file.
